Another Chance
by kate04us
Summary: What did Andy mean when he told the jumper in 3x16 - "Leap of Faith" that he wanted to call it quits at some point, too? It's a look at his darkest hour, but someone saved him from himself and helped him find his way again. A rather dark piece dealing with addiction and suicide. It does have a happy Shandy ending, though.


**Another Chance**

by Kate04

**A/N:** This is sort of an add-on to 3x16 – "Leap of Faith". When he tries to talk the guy out of jumping, Andy tells him that he wanted to call it quits at some point, too. That made me wonder why and how. This is the result.

As always, **Most Bossy Robin** did an amazing beta job and deserves many hugs and virtual cookies! If you find any mistakes, you can keep them.

**Subject warning:** This story deals with **alcoholism** and **suicide**. If you have issues with those topics, you might wanna skip this. No one dies, though and for those who make it through the dark part, there's a happy ending. :D

**Disclaimer:** Not my sandbox, not my toys. I only bend them a little, but I don't break them.

**-0-0-0-0-0-0-**

_Once I knew only darkness and stillness... my life was without past or future... but a little word from the fingers of another fell into my hand that clutched at emptiness, and my heart leaped to the rapture of living._

_Helen Keller_

**-0-0-0-0-0-0-**

Andrew Flynn stared into his glass, fascinated by the golden sparkle of the bourbon within as he swirled it around, anticipating the strong bite he would feel once it slid down his throat. The bottle stood in front of him on the bar, half empty and giving the flickering light of the candle behind it an amber glow. It was his salvation, his downfall – blessed oblivion and a last surrender.

Every time he filled his glass, he thought about all the reasons why he shouldn't drink, why he should just walk away from the bottle, from this promise of numbness. In the end it all came down to one thing – there was nothing left that was worth staying sober for.

Amanda had kicked him out months ago after he had returned home in the middle of the night, too drunk to make it to his bed. He had stumbled over Nicole's gym bag at the top of the stairs and fallen. Not bothering to untangle his legs from it and get up, he had just fallen asleep where he had landed, sitting on the floor of the hallway, leaning against the wall. It was where his son found him the next morning on the way to the kitchen. Amanda, who had been right behind him, had told the boy to go ahead downstairs and set the table while she dealt with his father.

His wife had never been that angry, yelling at him for being a useless father and bad husband, for never being there when he was needed and for being too drunk to be of any help when he actually made it home. After a time, he hadn't heard her words anymore, only the hurt and anger in them, her disappointment and resignation. It wasn't as if she hadn't said it all before. And it wasn't as if Andy didn't know it was all true. Andy knew that he was a failure as a husband and father, but the more he realised that, the stronger got the urge to drink, to forget.

At some point, she had gone back into the bedroom. She had stopped yelling, ripping his clothes out of the closet and tossing them into a suitcase instead. She had told him to go and not bother coming back. She would be damned if she'd let her children live in the same house as a rotten drunk. He had wanted nothing more than to hold her, dry her tears and tell her he would be better, that he would change, be the man she needed him to be. He wanted nothing more than to believe it himself. Andy had made that promise before, though – countless times – and not once had he been able to keep it. He just wasn't strong enough. Instead, he had taken his suitcase and walked away, the apology he knew she deserved stuck in his throat.

Andy took a large gulp from his glass, flinching at the nasty bite of the cheap liquor. He had long since given up quality in favour of quantity. Had that been the first or the second time he had fallen off the sobriety wagon? He couldn't remember and he didn't care. This was his life now – somewhere between work, the pub and his tiny, lonely apartment. He twisted his wedding band between his fingers, his vision too blurry to make out the faint inscription. He knew what it said, though.

_Forever yours, Amanda _

They had been so young back then, so naïve. She had been his one great love and he hers and they had been happy for a while. Until life happened, things got difficult and they didn't know how to deal with it. They didn't know how to talk to each other, as things got tough. They disappointed each other, they hurt each other and then he started drinking and it all went to hell. Andy hadn't set out to destroy his marriage or to hurt Amanda, but he had and he didn't know how to live with that knowledge, how to live without her.

Soon enough, _forever_ would be over. A couple of weeks ago, he had signed the divorce papers. He hadn't contested them. The least he could do was pay child and spousal support. He hadn't fought for the house or for his right to see his children. The house he didn't need and his children didn't deserve to have to deal with their drunk father. They would be better off without him.

All he had left now was his work. He had tried several times to quit drinking – when Amanda had asked him, after she had thrown him out, when his captain had told him to pull his act together – but it was so hard. He kept disappointing the people he cared about and life kept throwing crap at him. Their cases were never easy, but some were simply too bad to deal with. But the bottom line was, he was good at his job. So what if he needed to escape just for a while? Many of his colleagues went to the bottle for help and his wasn't the only marriage that had fallen victim to the job and the booze. There weren't so many possible endings to this story. Either he would sober up, which he had tried and failed, or he would screw up badly enough to lose his job.

Until a week ago, he had been pretty lucky. His screw-ups had been minor enough that his partner and his captain had been able to protect him. That devil down in Internal Affairs had read him the riot act a few times, even sending him to two anger management courses, but she could never find a reason to take away his badge.

When he had beaten up a suspect last week, she hadn't been so nice anymore. The fact that the asshole had smashed his own little stepdaughter's head against a wall until she died from the injuries hadn't seemed to matter to her. Instead, she had made him use the Breathalyzer and had given him this infuriating stare when she had seen the result. It was somewhere between anger and disappointment, too close to the look on Amanda's face when he had last seen her. For a brief moment, he had wanted to apologize to Sergeant Raydor, but then she had told him that he was to hand over his badge and gun and go home. Suspended without pay until further notice. She had glared at him, her eyes dark and her voice hard and unpleasant as she had told him to get a handle on his problem if he ever wanted to have his badge back.

He had been angry, blaming the annoying IA Sergeant, the dirt bag who had killed the little girl he was supposed to protect and the ugly, disgusting world in general. Instead of finding a meeting, he had entered the first bar on his way, ordered a bottle of their cheapest bourbon and gotten thoroughly drunk. The next morning, dealing with the mother of all hangovers and an even worse case of guilt, he had slinked into a nearby community center, staying close to the door in the back of the room, as he listened to one person after another telling their sad, pathetic stories. He tried to see himself up there, in front of all these strangers, talking to them about all his failures, giving them a detailed account of the screwed up life of Andrew Flynn. The thought was uncomfortable enough, but the knowing looks people threw his way, their overly friendly and welcoming smiles, made him panic. He didn't want to know these people, didn't want to let anyone else into his life. He would only disappoint them, just as he had disappointed everyone else who had ever cared about him.

Andy had left before anyone could talk to him. Since then, not one minute had passed when he hadn't been either drunk or asleep – or both. The truth was, he was a pathetic excuse for a human being and there really was no reason left for him to be around. His wife and children didn't want him in their lives anymore and what remained of his family lived on the East Coast and weren't particularly eager to talk to their alcoholic relative. His partner, while having been willing to protect him when he screwed up, hadn't even once tried to contact him in the past week, obviously too busy with his own life to care for the idiot he used to work with. His boss and his other colleagues had slapped him on the back, told him to suck it up and do what he had to do and sent him on his way.

Why did he even bother? All he did was go through the motions. Get up in the morning, go to work, drink and sleep. Occasionally, he even remembered to eat, but what was once his passion was now nothing more than another exhausting necessity to get through. He couldn't remember when he had last cooked a meal. Amanda had loved his cooking. She had always said how she had fallen in love with him over his marinara sauce and knew she wanted to marry him after tasting his tiramisu.

He should just give up, put himself and everyone else out of their misery. It would be easy enough. He had a gun at home and knew how to ensure that it would be quick. The money from his life insurance would take care of Amanda and the kids for a while. When he had started working his beat, Andy had made sure that the payment would cover them for a few years, long enough for her to stand on her own feet. Of course, that was when he feared being killed in the line of duty and not in the line of alcoholism. Amanda was a smart woman. She would be fine, much better off without him.

As he drained another glass and refilled it, it occurred to Andy that, while the quickest and safest option, shooting himself would leave no doubt that it had been suicide. His insurance didn't cover that and there was no way he would leave his family without any means of survival. Letting his head sink into his hands, he sighed in resignation. Why did everything have to be so damned hard? Even giving up was too complicated.

He made his way through the rest of the bottle, not even noticing the unpleasant burning of the liquor nor the increasing fuzziness of his thoughts. He mulled over his senseless existence and possible ways of escaping, unable to settle on anything for more than a few fleeting moments. With every scenario that went through his mind, his desire to find this ultimate relief grew. Where the booze once was enough to make him forget, it now only left him even more depressed, reminding him of everything he had given up, everything he had destroyed.

With the last glass, his resolve was firm and his plan made. Mulholland Drive wasn't too far away and the streets were mostly empty this time of night. Usually, when he was this drunk he left the car behind and got a cab at the corner. There was enough of the cop in him not to risk hurting anyone while driving under the influence. This time, he would make an exception.

After settling his tab, Andy walked around the block to clear his head a little, enough to drive the few miles up into the hills. There were enough places where he could find the peace he sought at the bottom of a steep slope. It would be questioned, but in the end, there wouldn't be enough evidence to not write it off as an accident. With every step closer to his car, Andy's determination got stronger, his longing for oblivion too intense to ignore.

Once behind the wheel, Andy made sure to drive carefully, but not suspiciously so. The last thing he needed right now was being pulled over for reckless driving when he was so close to his ultimate goal.

In the end, what stopped him wasn't a patrol car. A woman ran into the street right in front of him, trying to catch her runaway dog. He wasn't sure how he had managed to avoid hitting her, especially in his current state, but Andy had stepped on the breaks in time, making his car spin out of control and into a parked car. As his head hit the wheel, he cursed his bad luck, before he passed out.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Sharon Raydor was mad. Clad in a dark suit and her black coat, her death glare firmly in place, she walked the short distance from her car to the small crowd of people standing at the side of the road. With the way people jumped out of her path, giving her plenty of room, she knew her mood projected adequately.

She'd had a late night preparing for and watching one of Emily's recitals. As usual, it had taken a while to calm the girl down enough to sleep afterwards and Sharon had just managed to fall asleep herself an hour before her phone had woken her up again. That alone wasn't the reason for her current ire. It was her on-call-night and being dragged out of bed during those wasn't uncommon. What had her fuming was the identity of the officer who had gotten himself into trouble – again. Lately, Sharon had a feeling that all she ever dealt with was Andy Flynn's idiotic behaviour. He certainly wasn't the only officer with anger management issues, neither was he alone in having a drinking problem. However, over the last few months his problems had been escalating and right now, with a DUI added to his jacket, she was ready to call it quits. She had given him chance after chance to pull himself together, but he had screwed them all up. He obviously didn't want to change, like so many other alcoholics. Why the hell did she even bother to try? It wasn't as if she didn't have enough experience with this. How long had she tried to make her husband sober up before she had asked him to leave?

That one night a year ago was still too present in her mind. Jack had come home late, reeking of alcohol and cigarette smoke, unable to keep quiet enough not to wake the children. She had tried to get him upstairs silently, but he had refused, determined to "show his wife a good time" right where they stood at the bottom of the stairs. The smell of his breath had made her nauseous and she had pushed him away, told him to go sleep it off and make sure not to disturb the kids on the way to the _guest_ room.

He had gotten angry, called her cold-hearted and a bitch and many other unpleasant things, accusing her of thinking of nothing other than the children anymore. He had made his drinking about her, her lack of attention, her expectations, her rules. When she had wanted to walk away to look in on the children and see to it that they would fall asleep again, he had grabbed her arm and turned her around, making her hit the wall hard. For a moment they had stared at each other, both too shocked to say anything. Then she had very deliberately extracted her arm from his grip and told him in a deceptively calm voice to leave the house and not come back, that she would make sure he wouldn't see his children ever again, if he didn't stop drinking.

She hadn't heard from him again since then. He had picked up some things the next day, while she had been at work and then he had vanished. Many times, Sharon had wondered if she had done the right thing, if maybe she had pushed him even further into addiction by cutting him off from his family, but considering their last encounter, she just couldn't risk having him around the children in that state. Despite the doubt, regret and guilt, Sharon was still unspeakably angry with him for not caring enough, for not fighting to be better for them. It hurt more than any of his hateful words ever could.

It was this anger that she felt as she pushed her way through the officers who surrounded a disheveled figure sitting on the sidewalk. They all stood a few feet away from him with confused expressions on their faces, watching as an exasperated paramedic tried to convince his patient that he needed to treat the cut on his forehead.

"What the hell is going on here?"

At her impatient bark, everyone jumped back another step, bringing her face to face with the man on the ground. He slowly lifted his head to give her a brief, tired look, a steady flow of blood trickling down the side of his face. He didn't seem to care, if he noticed at all.

The nervous medic cleared his throat and, indicating the case full of first aid supplies in his hand, he explained to her how he had been trying to get Sergeant Flynn to let him look at his cut for the last half hour, but he refused treatment.

Sharon rolled her eyes and looked to the black night sky for patience before she faced the officers around her, trying to convey her disbelief at the situation. How the hell had they not managed to get one pigheaded idiot to sit still for the ten minutes it would take to clean and tape up the cut on his face? She didn't bother to count how many grown men were standing around her looking helpless.

Taking in the scene of the accident, Sharon spotted her partner's car pulling up. She pointed at two officers and told them to make sure the scene was thoroughly documented before the tow truck removed Flynn's car. The next two officers she put in charge of reporting what they had learned to Detective Wilson and making sure he took any witness statements.

With the onlookers gone, Sharon turned towards the injured man again, her temples throbbing with the early stages of a migraine.

"Would you mind telling me what your problem is, Sergeant?"

Her tone wasn't as calm and indifferent as she would have liked, but between sleep deprivation, the oncoming headache and her initial anger, she didn't care much. He didn't even look at her when he replied, quiet and monotone.

"Just leave me alone."

"Is that what you want? You have a funny way going about that; I'll give you that. But you know what, I didn't come here in the middle of the night to watch you bleed out on the street. If that was what you wanted, you could at least have done it before they called me out here and spared me the trouble of writing you up – _again_."

This time he finally met her eyes. What she saw shocked her. His gaze was empty, devoid of any emotion. The angry sparkle, the darkening of his brown eyes whenever he saw her was absent. He was done; his passion was gone. He had given up and suddenly she wondered what he had been doing behind the wheel anyway, when he was one of the few alcoholics she knew who had never driven when this drunk. He had done many stupid things, but as far as she knew that had never been one of them.

"What do you care? Why would you bother writing me up _again_, when you'll have me fired, anyway? You already took my badge and I don't want it back. I'm through with all that bullshit. All I want is for everyone to leave me alone. Is that so much to ask for?"

He was resigned, had given up every last bit of hope, but instead of making her give up too, it made rage boil in the pit of her stomach, her voice dripping with biting sarcasm, rising with every word until she almost yelled at him.

"Actually, I'm not sure why I'm here, either when it's so obvious that you've thrown in the towel. But, for now, you're still a member of the LAPD, and you drove your car under the influence and caused an accident. I won't even bother to let you use the Breathalyzer this time. I don't need it to see that you're way past the legal limit. The DUI is going to be the least of your problems. Have you even thought about what could have happened? If you hadn't been so incredibly lucky, I could be arresting you for manslaughter right now."

This finally got a reaction out of him. Pain was etched on his features, a haunted expression in his eyes as he replied, his voice low and broken.

"I never meant to hurt anyone else. It wasn't meant to end this way, but it looks like I can't even get one single thing right. I'm the eternal screw-up, destined to hurt anyone who ever gets close to me. Just get it over with, will you? I'll sign whatever you need to get it done."

Studying the broken man in front of her, Sharon knew that he was way beyond caring for his job. Usually, she would have someone load him in a patrol car and have him sleep it off in a cell while she'd file the paperwork to have him removed from the force. Why she would even consider doing anything else, for Flynn of all people, was beyond her. He was a drunk and an ass and a liability to the LAPD and quite obviously looking forward to being free of his responsibilities.

Maybe that was the issue – a once good man, trying to get rid of his responsibilities, giving up, being too weak to fight. It was what Jack had done and the rational part of her mind realised that this was triggering her unusual reaction. Sharon didn't feel particularly rational at that moment, however. She just saw another man who was trying to run away from it all and it made her mad.

Taking a step closer until she stood right in front of him, Sharon glared down at Andy, her expression full of derision and contempt.

"You're right. You should just crawl off into some dark corner and drink yourself into your grave. It's so much like you to take the coward's way out. I have no idea why I ever thought that you would have any chance to change your life. Just go ahead and disappoint the last few people who still care about you. It's not as if they don't expect it from you by now."

Sharon grabbed his upper arms and tried to drag him to his feet, strengthened by her agitation.

"Come on, get up and get back into your car. Where were you going to go? Take off to some place where no one knows you? Hit a few casinos in Vegas to gamble away whatever money you don't spend on Scotch? What was the big plan, huh?"

Andy had neither reason nor strength to resist the insistent pull of the feisty little brunette, so he reluctantly got up, wavering on the spot and wincing at the vice like grip she still had on his arms. He couldn't meet her eyes, couldn't take the hurt and disappointment he saw in them. He didn't understand why she even gave a crap, but her expression made him think of Amanda. He missed her so much.

Sharon shook the unresponsive man hard, not caring that her conduct was way beyond professional by now, but she had no other idea how to get through to him and his behaviour just rubbed her the wrong way. He managed to reopen a barely healed wound with his attitude, bringing back memories and feelings she had worked long and hard to push to the back of her consciousness in order to go on with her life. If she were completely honest with herself, this outburst of hers had stopped being about Andy Flynn a while ago. He was just a convenient target for all the pent-up hurt and anger Jack had left her with, a handy recipient of all the things she had been unable to say to her husband when she'd had the chance.

She gave him a little shove to put some distance between them before she shot the next volley, her voice shaking, close to breaking.

"Your wife is lucky that she threw you out when she did. At least she doesn't have to see this sorry excuse for a man you've become."

Sharon was ready to turn around and leave him to his own devices, not really caring anymore if the paramedic got to do his job, but Andy's angry yell stopped her in her tracks.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, talking to me like that? You think you're an expert just because your husband drinks, too? And no wonder he does when he has to come home to a cold-hearted bitch like you. At least I never cheated on my wife with string of little blonde whores."

The crack of skin on skin was followed by deadly quiet as they stared at each other wide-eyed. Her hand tingled, an unpleasant reminder of her completely uncharacteristic loss of control. Never in her entire life had she physically attacked another person unless it was in self-defense. His words stung just as much as the palm of her hand, a stark reminder of what her life had been like only a year ago – angry yelling, hurtful accusations and the painful knowledge that her husband found comfort in the arms of someone else.

It was still no excuse for hitting him and, closing her eyes, she drew a deep breath and let her shoulders relax from their bunched up state.

"I'm sorry, Sergeant. That was unprofessional of me. I… Are you alright?"

As far as she knew he might have a concussion from the accident and slapping him in the face on top of that was all kinds of wrong. She felt terrible about it, even though a tiny part of her still insisted that he had deserved it.

To his credit, Flynn looked contrite, his eyes unable to stay on hers for more than a few seconds at a time before they slipped to the ground again and his voice had lost all traces of anger.

"Yeah, I'm okay. And I'm sorry, too. What I said… It was unfair and uncalled for. You didn't deserve that. It's not your fault that I'm a screw-up."

The man who had just given up on himself still managed to feel badly about saying something hurtful. It gave her confidence that the brilliant cop she knew Andrew Flynn to be wasn't irretrievably lost yet, that she could still help him somehow, even though the hopelessness had crept back into his tone and posture. Sharon almost rolled her eyes at the circular nature of this encounter. Now that most of her anger had evaporated, she keenly felt the exhaustion of a long day and too little sleep and she wanted nothing more than to crawl back into her warm bed, pull the blanket over her head and forget the world existed for another few hours. First she had to deal with Sergeant Flynn, however. The vision of soft sheets renewed her determination and she put her hands on her hips, eyes narrowed at the exasperating man, an unmistakable authority in her tone as she addressed him.

"Alright, this is what's going to happen now. You will walk over to that ambulance where you will sit down and let this nice gentleman here check out your head. Once he is done with that, we'll talk again."

Andy just stared at her, his dumbfounded expression almost amusing. When he made no move to follow her order, she raised an eyebrow and pointed a finger in the direction of the ambulance.

"I don't have all night, so move it!"

At that, he finally complied, the paramedic tagging along behind him, casting a cautious look at her as he passed.

While the Sergeant was being looked after, Sharon found her partner and let him bring her up to speed on what he had learned so far. When she told him about her plans for Flynn, Wilson wasn't impressed. It was no secret that the two men couldn't stand each other and Sharon knew that it would make the detective incredibly happy to finally get rid of Flynn. Wilson had only recently been transferred from Traffic, where he'd had more than just a few run-ins with Andy. As he was still in the process of learning the workings of IA, Flynn's future was not up to him, which didn't do anything to improve his mood.

"Why do you care so much, anyway? You letting him screw you?"

Sharon closed her eyes and slowly counted to ten, taking several measured breaths to find that calm place within. Why did it feel as if every man around her seemed to be out to steal her last nerve tonight? Pushing her hands deep into her coat pockets to keep herself from slapping yet another man, she gave him a hard stare, her lips curling into a cold smirk, her tone icy, daring him to try her patience any more than he already had.

"I'm sorry, Detective, but I'm not sure I understood. Would you like to repeat what you just said – on the record?"

When he simply held her stare without further reacting, she raised an expectant eyebrow to let him know that she was waiting for an answer. In the end he looked away, mumbled something that she chose to take as an apology and sauntered off towards the waiting patrol officers to move things along the way she had suggested. Relief washed over Sharon as she looked at the retreating back of the burly man. She really didn't feel like writing up her own colleague for insubordination and misogynistic behaviour. Not tonight. With his attitude, she would probably get another chance to suggest a few sessions of sensitivity training for him in the future. With a heavy sigh and a resigned shake of her head, Sharon walked back towards the ambulance to check on Flynn.

She found him sitting in the back of the bus, head leaning against the wall and his eyes closed. His face was cleaned up and the cut tended to, making him look a lot better than before. Without all the blood, the cut didn't look too bad and he seemed otherwise unharmed, an impression the paramedic confirmed once she asked him.

"The cut looked worse than it actually was and it should heal just fine on its own. He doesn't seem to have a concussion and apart from a headache and general soreness, he should be alright. I would suggest taking him to the hospital for the night as a precaution, but Mr. Flynn doesn't wish to go and as long as he isn't alone for the next 24 hours, he can just as well rest at home."

Sharon nodded as she prodded her walking, talking headache in the arm, urging him to vacate the ambulance so the poor paramedic team could finally move on to more grateful patients. Much to her relief, he followed her without protest – at least until they reached her car. When she opened the passenger side door for him, he stopped and looked at her.

"Where are you taking me? What's gonna happen now?"

She should have known that he wouldn't go without making any fuss about it. Her eyes itched and her muscles ached, her feet were sore and pain shot up her back and into her head, pulsing at her temples. All she wanted was to curl up and sleep. Why was that so much to ask for? Bracing herself for another lengthy debate, Sharon leaned against the open door and gave Flynn an exasperated roll of her eyes.

"Now, Sergeant, you're going to get into this car and I'll drive you to a rehab facility that is willing to take you for the next three months. You will sober up and you will talk to a psychologist to address your problems. Once you're done with your stay there, you will continue to see a therapist. You will attend AA meetings as often as you need to and you will work on staying sober. When you get out of rehab, you will be evaluated by behavioral science and if they determine that you're fit to return to duty, your current job will be waiting for you. Make no mistake, Sergeant Flynn, this is your absolute last chance to get your life under control again. If you blow this, I won't be able to help you anymore."

He understood that Raydor was determined to make him change. She just didn't seem to understand that it was pointless. The adrenaline of his accident was beginning to wear off along with the buzz from the alcohol, leaving Andy with one hell of a headache and almost too exhausted to stand upright. Why couldn't she just leave him alone so he could curl up somewhere and sleep, preferably never to wake up again?

"Why? What's the point? I have already ruined the most important parts of my life. I've brought nothing but pain and disappointment over the people I love. They'd all be better off without me."

He didn't want to look at her, afraid to see pity or disappointment in her eyes. He knew she would have something to say to that. She always had something to say. Her words, when they came, delivered in her calm, deliberate way, surprised him, though.

"And what do you imagine they would feel if you were truly gone, hmm? Have you thought about that? Have you considered that your wife might feel responsible for what happened to you – that she might never get over the guilt of having pushed you away when holding on might have saved you? What you were planning to do is incredibly selfish and weak and cowardly. You say you want to make things easier for your family. There's only one way to do that. Stop drinking and start putting your life back together. It's going to be hard and it's going to take a long time and you probably won't be able to get your family back the way it was, but you can be a man your children will be proud to call their dad. Don't let this be the way they remember you."

Her eyes were suspiciously bright and Andy was fascinated by their colour and expressiveness. How had he never noticed that before? And why did she know exactly where to hit him to get what she wanted? A last stubborn part of him reared its head, almost making him cross his arms in defiance, but she seemed to anticipate it and just glared at him, her finger pointing at the front seat, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"Get. In. The. Car. _Now_!"

He complied; his body moving before his mind even had a chance to catch up. Like a chastised child, he wordlessly climbed into the car and fastened his seatbelt, patiently waiting for her to take her own seat and deliver him to his home for the next three months.

For several miles they didn't speak, the silence between them almost oppressive, but neither knew how to break it. After their earlier words, small talk just seemed too ordinary, too forced and superficial. She had seen him at his absolute worst and he had glimpsed some of her own demons. Talking about the weather or office gossip would seem like a bad joke at this point.

Andy let their conversation go through his mind again, trying to process everything she had said to him when one particular part of it stuck out for him.

"Bourbon."

The single word breaking the silence between them confused Sharon. She cast a brief, puzzled look at him before she focused on the street again.

"I usually drink Bourbon, not Scotch," he clarified.

Andy knew from the few times he had drunk with her husband, that Scotch was Jack's beverage of choice and it occurred to him that he hadn't seen the man in a long time. People came and went in the circles Andy frequented. Barstools that had been occupied by the same person every night for years suddenly stayed empty or someone new sat in them. Rarely was the presence or absence of anyone ever questioned, if it was noticed at all. It was a cold, heartless environment that only felt like the warm bosom of family as long as there was enough booze to go around.

"How's Jack? Haven't seen him in while."

Andy wondered if Jack maybe had managed to sober up. He had been talking about it often enough, after all. When he saw the woman beside him press her lips together in displeasure, her eyes narrowing and her knuckles turning white with the force of her grip on the steering wheel, he regretted his question and wished he could take it back. He had hurt her enough with his ugly words earlier and, as much as she annoyed him most of the time, she didn't deserve that. Sharon's voice was cold when she replied, but there was an underlying sadness to it, a rare glimpse of her true emotions, which showed Andy more than anything else how raw her feelings about Jack still were.

"I don't know. Last I heard he was in Vegas, but that was a few months ago."

As hard as she tried to appear unaffected, she couldn't fool him. Jack had hurt her deeply and suddenly the events of the night made a lot more sense to him.

"I'm sorry."

He wasn't sure if he was apologizing for Jack's drinking or his own or for the way he had spoken to her earlier, for hurting her, for reminding her of her own problems. Maybe he was finally able to voice the regret he couldn't put into words in front of Amanda. Sitting in a car next to another man's heartbroken wife, his head still spinning with the residual effects of alcohol and his accident, Andy truly became aware of the full extent of the damage his drinking had done.

It was one thing to know on a conscious, logical level how his behaviour affected the people around him, but it was entirely different to see it, as someone who was not directly involved, in the quiet, dignified agony of this strong and independent woman. He wondered if someone would look at his Amanda and see something similar in her. The thought made his eyes burn with tears and, looking out of the passenger side window, he tried hard to suppress them.

The rest of their drive passed in silence, both of them lost in their own thoughts. When they pulled up in front of the facility that would be Andy Flynn's home for the next few months, Sharon helped him out of the car, her arm around him until she was sure that he was steady on his feet. She was glad that he had stopped fighting her and was at least willing to try again.

As they walked towards the door, Sharon studied his profile. She noticed that the earlier overwhelming air of resignation had made room for determination. He seemed to have come to a decision about his future and wasn't just doing this because she told him to and going along with it seemed like the easiest way out at the moment. Of course, she had been down this road many times before – with other officers and with her own husband – and she knew that deciding to go into rehab was only the first step and one of the easier ones. Only time would tell if he'd actually stick to it this time. For his own sake and the sake of his children, she hoped so.

"Is there someone you want me to call for you? Someone who can bring you a few things from home?"

He would get most of the things he'd need at the facility, but she was sure that he'd appreciate some of his own stuff. Andy gave her a small, grateful smile and nodded.

"Yeah, that would be great. Could you maybe call my partner? He has a key to my apartment."

She hummed her agreement and turned towards him as they stopped at the bottom of the stairs. He felt like he should say so many things, apologize once more, promise her to stick to it this time, tell her she didn't go to all this trouble in vain, but he knew better. He had said all those things before and she had heard them all many times. In the end, there was only one thing left for him to say.

"Thank you. For everything."

She nodded and gave him an encouraging smile. Her mouth opened as if she wanted to say something, but she decided against it, tilting her head towards the door. With one last, deep breath, Andy walked up the stairs. At the door he turned around and looked at the lone figure that stood, leaned against her car, watching him. He didn't know her very well, hadn't exactly gotten along with her over the years, but somehow the knowledge that she was on his side, that she cared about him enough to make him care, too – it gave him the strength he needed to walk this road again. Sergeant Raydor had gone against her precious procedures to give him one last chance and he knew that he'd fight hard so she wouldn't regret it. Maybe she would be the one person in his life he wouldn't disappoint. Maybe he could do for her what her husband couldn't seem to accomplish.

**-0-0-0-0-0-0-**

**March 2015**

It was unusually warm for mid March, the early evening hours only bringing some relief. Feeling at least somewhat refreshed after washing the day away in the shower and eating her chicken salad, Sharon poured herself a glass of iced tea and retreated to the balcony with her book. Curling up in one of her chairs, she closed her eyes and let the slight breeze caress her bare neck. She had let her hair dry naturally today and had just pinned the unruly mass up to get it out of the way.

Taking a deep breath, Sharon noticed the special scent of spring in the air. It was subtle, barely discernable underneath the almost overwhelming smell of the city, but it was there. It made her stomach flutter with the promise of renewal, of long walks late at night and fresh flowers. It wasn't as extreme a change here as she knew it from her childhood years in Boston, where the winters were long and cold and dark; when spring meant being able to spend more time outside and see nature transform from the bleak gray of winter to the fresh green of rebirth.

With one last, deep inhalation, Sharon took a sip of her drink and focused on her book, determined to relax after having spent the day bend over a never-ending stack of reports.

She was only a few pages in when her phone rang. Realising that she had left it on the kitchen counter, Sharon contemplated not answering, but in the end she couldn't do it. It could be one of her kids or maybe they had caught another case. Groaning at the thought of having to give up her relaxing evening, she put her book aside and padded over towards the offending device. A soft smile came over her lips when she saw the caller id before she answered, her voice soft and happy.

"Hi Andy."

"Hey. Is this a bad time?"

He sounded hesitant and Sharon immediately wondered if something was wrong, even though it wasn't the first time he called her this late.

"Of course not. Is everything okay? Did something happen?"

He was quick to reassure her before he took a deep breath and blurted out his question.

"I just got out of a meeting and felt like taking a walk along the beach and I thought of you, that maybe you might want to join me."

His unusual request took Sharon completely by surprise. They had taken walks together a few times, usually after one of their dinners when they hadn't felt like going home right away, but neither one of them had ever called just to ask the other out for a walk. It was oddly intimate and it made Sharon a little nervous as she didn't know what it would mean for their already slightly too close relationship.

"If you don't feel like it, it's fine. I just –"

That was the thing – she did feel like it. Besides, whatever her doubts about this, Sharon was aware that today was a special day for Andy. Every year, he took this day off. Even though she had no idea why this date was significant, she wanted to be there for him.

"A walk sounds great. Shall I meet you somewhere?"

The confidence she was so used to was back in his tone and she was glad to hear it.

"No, I'm not far from your place. I'll pick you up in ten, if that's okay? Or do you need a little more time?"

Sharon looked down at her attire and figured that it would do.

"Ten minutes sounds good. I'll be ready."

After saying their goodbyes and hanging up, Sharon collected her glass and book from the balcony and put them away before she put on her shoes and fetched her white cashmere wrap and small brown purse from her bedroom closet. By the time he knocked on her door, Sharon had packed everything she needed and checked herself in the mirror, deciding against going to the trouble of putting on makeup. They had reached a comfortable place in their friendship where she didn't feel the need to always look perfect whenever they met.

When she opened the door and stepped up to him to place a hand on his chest and a kiss on his cheek, she tried very hard to hide her smile. From the look on his face when he had let his eyes do their customary track up and down her body, her very casual look met his approval.

If Andy thought that the front view of Sharon's unusual outfit was fascinating with the thin, white blouse with its enticing v-neck and the glimpse of her lacy bra underneath, he wasn't prepared for what he saw when she turned around to lock the door. It was the first time he had ever seen her with her hair up and the sight of her long, bare neck made his fingers twitch with the urge to caress it. The dark blue denim skirt that ended well above her knees gave him a beautiful view of her long legs and it clung to her butt, outlining its perfect shape. All sorts of sinful thoughts shot through his mind and he had a hard time keeping them from showing on his face. Andy offered her his arm and they strolled towards the elevator.

On the ride to the beach, Sharon updated Andy on what had happened at the office, her tale of how Amy spent all day winding up Lieutenant Provenza until he had turned an interesting shade of purple, made both of them laugh. One of Julio's friends, a detective from Vice, had stopped by with her new baby, showing the little girl off to everyone, effectively halting any kind of work for almost an hour. The adorable distraction had been more than welcome on an otherwise dull day.

Once they had parked the car and gotten down to the beach, Sharon took off her shoes, holding on to Andy's shoulder for balance, enjoying the warmth of his hand on her back. As they started walking again, her hand slipped into his and they continued for a while in silence.

It seemed to be a day of firsts, Andy figured as he spotted Sharon's crimson toenails. He had never seen her with bare feet before and, although it was common for women to have painted toenails, this bit of information was surprising and felt very intimate to him.

Even though the silence between them was comfortable, Sharon decided to try and prod him for some answers and she slightly bumped her shoulder into his arm to get his attention.

"Do you want to tell me what's going on?"

Andy looked down at her, smiled and squeezed her hand gently, reassuring her that he really was fine before he began to search for the right words to tell her about this day and why he'd wanted to spend the evening with her.

"You probably don't remember, but exactly 20 years ago you changed my life."

Sharon frowned at the rather cryptic statement, wondering what he could possibly be talking about. He just smiled at her puzzled expression.

"It was that night you yelled at me, slapped me, yelled at me some more and then bullied me into going to rehab."

Blushing at the memory, she looked up at him, recalling how awful she had been with him back then.

"Oh God, yes. I was so unbelievably rude to you. I still can't believe I slapped you. I've never slapped anyone before or after that and I felt so bad about it."

Andy laughed, marveling at the difference between that angry, yelling person he had been face to face with 20 years ago and the sweet and tender woman next to him right now. They had come so far.

"You shouldn't feel bad. That night I'd hit rock bottom. I was ready to quit and you shook me out of it. I still don't know why you even bothered wasting your time with a loser like me, but if it hadn't been for you, I probably wouldn't be around anymore."

Leaning into his side, her head resting against his shoulder, Sharon considered his words for a moment before she replied.

"Looks like my time wasn't wasted."

She smiled up at him, grateful for having him in her life, for having a chance to be here with him now.

"I still shouldn't have slapped you or yelled at you like that. It wasn't really you I was angry with, I guess. It was all still pretty raw with Jack back then and to see you giving up like that – it made all the things I hadn't been able to say to Jack come out. You know, I never lost my temper with him like that. Not back then, anyway. Sometimes I wonder if it would have changed anything if I had. Maybe if I had tried harder…"

Andy stopped and pulled her around to face him. He dropped his leather jacket, which hung over his free arm, to the ground and placed both hands on her upper arms, determination in his dark eyes as he held her gaze.

"No! Sharon, don't do this. Jack is an addict who doesn't see the need to change and nothing about that is your fault. Do not let him make you feel guilty. Blaming others for our own faults is what we're good at, but nothing about this is on you. You gave him chance after chance over the years and he blew them all."

For the most part, Sharon knew that he was right, but letting go of decades worth of guilt and doubt was easier said than done. Besides, the proof that it worked was standing right in front of her.

"You managed to change, though."

He shrugged, clearly embarrassed by her admiring tone.

"I knew I had a problem, but I thought no one gave a damn anymore. And then you came along and you seemed to care. When I looked at you, I could see how much he had hurt you with his drinking. That, more than anything else made me realize what I had done to my family. It took seeing their pain through your eyes for me to find the courage to try again. That, and I didn't want to disappoint you. The difference with Jack is that he never really sees his addiction as a problem, at least not the cards. He managed to kick the booze, but as long as you've got one addiction, all the others are easy to fall back into. That's something you have no chance of changing, Sharon. No matter how determined you are. You tried more than anyone else I know, but even you can't save them all."

Andy bent down to gab his jacket, but instead of picking it up he spread it out on the ground and sat down, tugging on Sharon's hand to make her sit down between his legs. After a second of hesitation, she followed his pull, closing her eyes as she leaned her back against his chest and rested her head on his shoulder. His arms wrapped around her, finding hers, their fingers entwining and settling on her stomach.

They sat in silence for a long time, both staring at the ocean as they thought about the past – all the things they regretted, wished they could change, the things they were grateful for and the way all that had turned them into the people they were today.

So many questions went through Sharon's mind as she tried to process Andy's words. How had they ended up where they were now? What could she have done to make it all better – if not for herself, then at least for her children. With Jack's most recent relapse – so uncomfortably close to their divorce – Sharon couldn't help the familiar feeling of guilt that surfaced whenever she thought of her troublesome ex-husband. It was hard not to contemplate the past, even if she was truly happy in the present, with her job, her children and this wonderful man in her life.

"If Amanda had given you one last chance back then, would that have changed anything for you?"

Andy placed his chin on her shoulder, enjoying the fresh, fruity scent of her shampoo, the warmth of her skin on his face and the tickle of her hair, as a few loose strands moved on the gentle breeze. It wasn't an easy topic to talk about, not remotely what he'd had in mind when he had called her earlier, but he knew that it was an important conversation, something they should get out in order to truly move on – hopefully together.

"I want to believe that it would have, but there's no way of knowing for sure. She certainly tried enough times. At some point she just had to put herself and the children first."

Sharon hummed in agreement. Of course she knew all about that. She'd had to make the same decision. There was something Andy had never told anyone, not even his sponsor or his therapist. It was this tiny part of his heart he had kept closed off for the last two decades, but right there, feeling Sharon's solid presence in his arms and hoping for something he'd thought impossible only a year ago, he knew he wanted to share it with her. The need to open up completely to this amazingly loving and forgiving person was almost overwhelming and it might even be necessary in order for him to make room for something new.

"You know, Amanda wasn't always the way you got to know her at the wedding and the ballet. She used to be the sweetest person I'd ever known. She always had a smile on her lips and she had the most wonderful laugh. She laughed all the time. She was happy and carefree, trusting and so full of love for everyone. I always joked that, if she could, she'd feed every homeless person in the city."

Sighing, he let the melancholy feeling wash over him. Sharon caressed the back of his hand with her thumb, giving him time to think, to remember.

"The cynicism and bitterness you saw when you met her – that's my fault. With the drinking, yeah – but also before, when I worked all those long hours and hardly had any time for her and the kids; when I came home with all the darkness and ugliness of the job inside me and refused to talk to her. I shut her out of a big part of my life and then I crawled into a bottle and couldn't be better for her. I hurt her and I broke her spirit. If I could change one thing in my life, it would be that. I loved her so very much, but it wasn't enough. My biggest regret is not having had the strength to be the man she deserved."

As Sharon squeezed his hands between hers in silent support, he turned his face into her neck, drawing deep breaths to fight back the tears that made his eyes sting. He let his nose brush against her skin, nuzzling the soft spot behind her earlobe until she shuddered in his arms. Encouraged by her reaction and seeking a distraction from his painful memories, he placed feather light kisses along her neck, blowing wayward strands of curly hair out of his way and delighting in the way those almost translucent hairs at the back of her neck rose in reaction.

She almost melted in his arms as Andy explored her delicate skin. One reason why she always wore her hair down was the fact that her neck was so incredibly sensitive. It was just as much part of her armor as the power suits and her tightly controlled emotions. His gentle touch and soft kisses awakened something in her that had been dormant for longer than she cared to remember. For the first second of this intimate contact, Sharon felt the need to pull away, to run from the promise and the danger.

However, Andy had found the courage to open up to her, had trusted her with something so deeply personal that it was easy to let go of her initial impulse and give in to him. She tilted her head to give him better access, enjoying the thrill that came with feeling safe enough to let herself fall and trust another person to catch her. Her voice was slightly unsteady and heavy with emotions when she finally found it again.

"For a long time, I hoped Jack would feel that way. I would've given anything to hear him say he was sorry and know he really meant it. It doesn't matter anymore, though."

And it really didn't. After that final confrontation in the hallway at work a few weeks ago, Sharon had closed that chapter of her life once and for all, finally letting go of all those silly hopes and wishes. Part of her would always love Jack for the good time they'd had at the beginning and for giving her Emily and Ricky, but that was it. Maybe in time she would even learn to let go of the last of her guilt, but she didn't intend to hold her breath on that one. Guilt was too much a part of her.

She sensed Andy draw a deep breath and felt the warm puff of air against her ear as he exhaled. It made her shiver again, heat starting to pool deep in her belly and nerve ending tingling all over her body. His lips brushed against the shell of her ear as he spoke again, his voice low and soft.

"After I screwed up my marriage, I thought that I'd never have that again, that I'd never be able to love anyone like that again."

Turning slightly, Sharon put her hand against his cheek and caught his eyes with her own, studying the brown orbs, fascinated by their expressiveness. She slowly closed the gap between them, lingering in that space where her eyes almost lost focus on his. Their breaths mingled and an almost unbearable tension flowed between them like static electricity.

It had been building up for months, but in this moment of complete trust and truth, Sharon was finally ready to release that last bit of control she'd held onto, to give voice to that one last truth she'd refused to face.

"Me either."

When their lips met in a tender, lingering kiss, everything they had left unsaid was right there in the softness of their lips, the gentle caresses, and the contented moans. After all the hardship, pain and struggles that lay behind them, they had found in each other what they had thought impossible – another chance at love.


End file.
